The Benders (14 page)

Four of us pile in the Jeep—Nessa and Ethan in front, me and my friend Mikey in back. He’s got his gun out, the black barrel aimed at my ribs as we pull out of the driveway. How hard would it be to grab that gun and turn it on him and Nessa when he’s not lookin’? But then, my head’s still rollin’ like a truck tire down a hillside.

We pull out of the dead subdivision and back into the military compound. The military grunts are out on the dirt field, runnin’ drills, jumpin’ over logs, and swingin’ from monkey bars. None of that nonsense would be useful in a down-and-dirty gunfight, which, in my experience, is what you end up in most of the time. But then we pass a rifle range where men hoist giant rifles up to their shoulders, aim, and fire at targets. The
rat-ta-tat-tat
of their weapons and gun smoke stirs my senses. I’d love to get my hands on one of them fancy rifles with the sightin’ scope and the huge magazine. My pa got one once, but the bullets ran out in the first couple days and we never did get any new ones.

To shoot from my right hip, now that’s what I really want. In my lap I flex my newly mended hand. I never thought I’d come out with both guns blazin’ again. Through all the hurt and pain of the last few days, that fact alone keeps me goin’.

The military buildings aren’t much to look at as we drive around. Each is rectangular, brick, and unmarked. Some have crumblin’ concrete steps and others are repaired. Some have men walkin’ inside and some seem vacant and black. But as we take a right and cruise around to the back of the compound, something does catch my eye. About a hundred yards away on a large concrete slab, men clamber around a huge plane, a big gray-green beast with two propellers on the front of each wing and a giant dorsal fin tail that sticks up into the sky. The men scamperin’ around look like insects compared to it. If they can get that puppy up in the sky, well, there’s not a damn thing they can’t do.

That thought scares me to pieces.

“The Hercules,” Nessa says wistfully. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Mikey leans forward, the gun still aimed at my ribs. “Ma’am, as civilians, you don’t have clearance to be back here. If the lieutenant found out I let you view the Hercules restoration—”

“Calm down, Private,” Nessa snaps. “Your lieutenant won’t find out and besides, I fixed his torn scrotum, so if he gives you any flack, ask him how his balls are doing.”

Mikey clears his throat. “Can we just move along?”

“Fine,” Nessa says, speeding up again. She angles away from the big plane, and I crane my neck to keep it in view. Who could they go after with a plane like that? It could carry troops, bombs. At the thought of bombs, my stomach clenches. One bomb would wipe out a whole town. I think of the Citadel and Mage’s smilin’ face. I think of my friends back in town.

A dronin’ noise in the sky draws my attention up. We lift our heads toward the buzz glidin’ in from the south. At first I think a swarm of insects, but then the noise is too…singular, too mechanical. Another plane?

We see the silver plane as it banks left and heads toward the compound. I’m so stunned to see something manmade in the air, I stare open-mouthed. Mikey has a different sort of reaction.

“No.” He stands up through the Jeep’s roll bars. “No!” he yells as the plane banks right and heads for us.

“What’s happening?” Ethan looks back at me. “Clay?”

I stand up next to Mikey. The plane buzzes low. It’s headed right for us, but why would it… No, it’s not headed for us. It’s headed for the Hercules.

The drone of the plane overhead is deafening. Mikey fires round after round at the plane’s silver underside. When his clip is empty, he yells at it, cursin’ in terms I didn’t know possible. He whips around and shakes Nessa’s shoulder.

“Drive!” he yells at her. “We have to warn the general.”

As Nessa grips the wheel to turn, a silver cylinder falls from the belly of the plane.

I watch dumbstruck as the silver tube slides through the sky. The arch of the bomb, the way it glints in the sunlight, seems so graceful and elegant. But the men, just tiny figures from where we’re parked, scramble and run like ants under a descending shoe.

There’s nothin’ they can do
, I think.
If they’re dead, what happens to us?

The Jeep’s tires squeal as Nessa guns it. The smell of rubber burns my nose as Mikey and I are thrown back into our seats. Mikey’s gun clatters to the pavement. I watch it fall, my heart spurrin’ into action. This is my one shot to get away.

I get no other thoughts. The bomb goes off and the world blooms into sound and fire. Heat and light.

I look up at Mister’s unforgiving face and back at the guard already pocketing whatever trinket Mister paid him off with. This is bad.

When I open my mouth to scream, Mister clamps a giant hand over it. “This way, fresh meat,” he growls in my ear.

He drags me behind the bunkhouse easily even though I’m struggling and digging in my heels. The compound is quiet. The only sounds are my thudding heart and Mister pulling me to the back wall. My eyes flick up the twelve-foot concrete wall, the bits of ragged glass winking in the moonlight. There’s no way I’d get over it even if I could get away from Mister. My eyes scan left and see more concrete wall. They scan right and see the open courtyard. Maybe if I could get out there—

A blow to my stomach sends my breath rushing out. I drop to my knees, my hands instinctively wrapping around my torso. I suck air in harsh barks. The need to breathe is all consuming and I don’t see Mister’s kick until it’s mid-swing.

His foot connects with my back, a kidney shot that sends pain like lightning up my spine. Gasping, I roll away. The pain follows. So does Mister. ,

“You think you can do whatever you want ’cause you caught Doc’s eye? Do ya?” Mister leans down, towering over me with his swinging black braid. “Doc thinks he’s the bee’s knees and so do you. I’ll show you who’s Mister around here.” He pulls his fist back.

I roll as he punches and his blow pounds into the dirt beside my head. Mister roars, clutching his injured fist. Even though I can’t draw a proper breath and my kidney feels like it’s pounded into hamburger, I scramble to my feet and run.

Behind me, Mister rages.

I tear past the bunkhouse and around the washroom. The moon is nearly full and high in the sky, so the compound is easy to navigate in the dark. The warehouse door handles are chained. Mister pounds the dust as he runs toward me. He’s slow, just like I thought, and I have no trouble staying ahead of him. Too bad there’s no place to run.

The wide courtyard is bare. The only place left is Lord Merek’s private quarters, but I have no idea what’s in there. A six-foot wooden fence blocks it from view. I glance back. Mister’s doubled over, panting and talking to the guard he paid off. While he enlists help tracking me down, I slip around the wooden fence, where I’m out of sightline. Then I jump, grip the top, and slowly drag myself up.

I’m up and over the fence before I can really contemplate what I’m doing. I fall into a heap on the other side, panting and hurting, and wishing to God I had some kind of weapon to bash Mister’s head in with. It’s not until I hear the rustle of soft fabric that I realize I’m not alone.

A woman stands before me, eyes wide, hands over her mouth. She’s dressed in sheer pink fabric that hides little of her figure beneath. A gold band circles her pale throat with a smaller one winking from her left finger. Her blonde hair is twisted up into elaborate knots. She even wears a small crown nestled in her hair, though it’s iron and lacks royal jewels. I look at her and then around the courtyard. The spacious wooden enclosure has a dirt floor, just like the rest of the courtyard, but this one is decorated with ornate benches, colorful rugs, and tinkling wind chimes. A five-foot-tall metal peacock, blue-green with tin feathers, nods its head in one corner. Someone has painted a castle, complete with knights and dragons, on the far wall. Everywhere there are knickknacks and garden gnomes, pottery and fake plants like someone raided an abandoned home and garden store.

The woman—girl—who’s staring at me with her round cheeks and babyish face, sits with an open book in her hands. She looks at me like I’ve fallen from the sky. I lie in the dirt, dumbstruck as she approaches.

A voice calls from the other side of the wall. “All okay in there?” It’s the guard who was helping Mister.

I freeze.

For a moment, the girl says nothing. Then she places her index finger to her rouged lips.

“Everything’s fine,” she says with a tiny lisp. “Why, Peter?”

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. If you hear or see anything…strange, will you let one of us know?”

She smiles wickedly and calls back over the wall. “Is something the matter?”

The guard clears his throat. “Just doing a routine night check.”

“I thought I heard something coming from the slave’s quarters. Should I get Lord Merek?” She winks at me.

“No, ma’am, no.” The guard is clearly distressed. “Sorry to bother you.” His footsteps trail away.

When he’s gone, she leans down and offers me a slender hand. I look at it and then at her smooth, round face.

“I’m Annabell,” she says, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Riley,” I say, standing up. Behind her, the building is dark, but it’s still dangerous for me to be here.

She follows my gaze to the door behind her. “Everyone else is asleep. Well, everyone except Mina, and she’s about to deliver, so no one wants to talk to her. She’s in with the new midwife now, panting and carrying on,” she whispers. “I’m allowed to come out and read if I don’t leave the courtyard. Pity the light is so poor.” She squints up at the moon and then back at me.

“You’re Lord Merek’s wife.”

She nods, her smile wilting. “A lesser wife, but yes. And you’re a bender.” She looks my body up and down and I fight the reflex to cross my arms over my breasts.

I clear my throat. “Sorry to bother you and thanks for covering for me, but I should go.”

“Go?” she asks, sitting down on her wrought-iron bench and closing her book. “Where would you go?”

I shrug, not sure I want to trust this girl. “Out.”

“Out of the compound?” She smoothes a hand down her sheer dress. If she’s embarrassed by how see-through it is, she shows no sign.

I say nothing.

“They shoot on sight here,” she says gazing over the wooden wall toward the concrete one. “You wouldn’t get ten yards even if you did get out of the compound.” She looks up at the moon forlornly and then pats the bench. “Sit with me.”

“I really should go.”

“I lied for you.” She lifts up calculating eyes. “You owe me.”

I study her for a moment. So young and sweet one moment, so demanding another. Like a spoiled child, I think, as I sit on the bench beside her. She slips slender fingers through my own rough ones. I flinch, but she holds my hand harder.

“Riley, do you know you’re the first person to touch me, other than our good Lord Merek, in three years?” She turns to me.

I shake my head. This is all very strange.

“Well, I guess Doc has touched me, but a doctor’s touch can hardly be counted, can it?”

I shake my head again. Inside the building behind us, a door shuts. I glance back nervously, but Annabell doesn’t turn.

“It isn’t right for a girl not to be touched, is it?” Her eyes stare out into the night and I have a feeling she’s talking more to herself than to me. I’m just a prop, more responsive than her book but just barely.

“And now he tells me if I don’t produce him an heir, he’s going to discard me.” Her voice is bitter now. Her eyes shine with tears. When she squeezes my hand even tighter, I try not to move.

Her head snaps to me. “How fair is it?” she asks. “How fair is it that Mina can get pregnant if someone sneezes on her, but I…can’t?” A sob stutters in her chest. She tugs a strand of gold out of her braids and curls it into her mouth for chewing. “It’s not fair.”

I don’t move, but stare at her tear-streaked face and think. Her life would be my life if I had chosen differently in that exam room. Her life is my life if they find out. No,
when
they find out. Unless I win the tournament. Unless I win my freedom.

“Do you know anything about Lord Merek’s birthday tournament?” I ask quietly.

Annabell shakes her head. “I know a bunch of his men have been scheming about it in the great hall for at least a month. They seem pretty pleased with themselves. I saw them sharpening swords one day.” She looks at me. “Why?”

“No reason,” I say, wringing my hands. Swords. Mister could cut my head off without much trouble.

Another door slams inside the house. A woman cries out. Footsteps stomp this way. I spring up, pulling my hand free of Annabell’s grasp. “I gotta go.”

“No, please.” Her eyes are frantic. She begins tugging at the strings that hold her sheer dress in place. “I know they say benders can’t get girls pregnant, but I wonder if the fault is with Merek. Please.” She grabs my hand and tries to draw me toward her even as the right shoulder of her dress comes undone and slides down. The white flesh of her collarbone is ivory in the moonlight.

“No.” I say, scrambling back. “Sorry.” For the second time that night I run to the wooden fence, grab the top, and hoist myself up. Her hands scramble at my ankles pleadingly, but I manage to throw myself over. When I land in a heap back on the other side of the wall, two dusty boots greet me. Bukowski. He taps me on the shoulder with his baton.

“Having a peek in the garden?” he asks, smirking like he just said something nasty. When I say nothing, he yanks me up. “Field trip’s over, sunshine.”

He prods me toward the bunkhouse. I glance around the courtyard, but see no sign of Mister or his guard friend. Thank heavens for small favors. Still, this business with Mister can’t be over.

“I’d ask you how you got out,” Bukowski says, shoving my shoulder in the direction he wants me to go, “but I seen Mister and one of our night guard’s looking for someone. Made an enemy already, sweet cheeks?” He shoves the baton hard into my spine. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“I just needed to pee,” I lie.